High School Secrets
by Happily Not You
Summary: Alfred and Arthur keep their relationship a secret through high school. Will their love remain strong? SMUT. USUK.


**Cute little high school UsUk.. R & R!**

In high school, they had to avoid each other or risk being found out. There was no reason for them to run in the same social circles, and Arthur was sure that people would see it on their faces if they sat together in the lunch room, Arthur swooning toward Alfred without noticing and Alfred looking at Arthur in that way that made him swoon, like he was going to eat Arthur for dessert. After school, when Arthur was finished with basketball practice and Alfred with track, something Arthur had convinced him to join so that they'd at least have sports in common, Arthur would go over to Alfred's house, telling his mother that he was studying with his basketball friends. She seemed to know that something was up, but Arthur's grades were good and he wasn't coming home stoned like some of the neighborhood kids, so she didn't complain. Arthur knew she'd go through the roof if she knew he was dating the kid who had told her to go screw herself when she asked him if his parents knew he was playing with fireworks.

Alfred's room was Arthur's favorite place in the world, his guiltiest pleasure. Most days they were freshly showered after their respective practices, but sometimes they'd show up still sweaty, just to make what they in Alfred's bed even dirtier. Arthur was usually wound pretty tight during the day, especially as high school went on and college started getting talked about, the SATs looming and basketball intensifying, but when he was lying under Alfred he was tonelessly relaxed, reduced to pants and whimpers, happy to be held down. He gave Alfred his virginity during their junior year, there in Alfred's bedroom on a hot Saturday afternoon, the blinds closed against the sun. It didn't even occur to Arthur until Alfred was inside him that Alfred was losing his, too, clinging to Arthur so hard that his arms shook.

"Feel different?" Alfred asked when they were lying together afterward. It was unremarkable afternoon in every other sense, not prom night or Arthur's birthday or anything special. Arthur wasn't sure what had made this the day, except that he'd wanted it for a while and couldn't wait any longer.

"Yeah," Arthur said. "Kind of. Do you?"

Alfred just shrugged and smiled. He looked happy, which was becoming pretty rare outside of that bed. He'd quit the track team because they had the nerve to ask him to get up at seven in the morning on weekends for competitions, and he was flunking most of his classes, still technically a sophomore despite the fact that he was seventeen. He talked about quitting school all the time and Arthur begged him not to. He didn't want to lose the only thing they had in common away from the afternoons in bed.

"So where are you going for college?" Alfred asked him one night. They were on their way home from Pizza Planet, which was still their favorite restaurant in town. Alfred was driving, lighting a cigarette while they were stopped at a red light. Arthur looked up from his attempts to find a decent song on the radio.

"Somewhere close to home," he said.

"Why?" Alfred asked with a scoff. Arthur glared at him.

"Not 'cause of you," he said, though he knew Alfred would recognize the lie. "My mom – she still needs help around the house with stuff."

"Like what?"

"Like – moving heavy furniture. I don't know – I – why do you care where I go to college?"

"'Cause I'd kind of like to spend the rest of my life fucking you, if you don't mind too much," Alfred said, muttering. Arthur stared. It was by far the most romantic thing Alfred had ever said to him.

They went back to Alfred's house to have sex, walking past Alfred's father on their way upstairs. He was passed out on the couch as usual. Arthur always wondered how much Alfred's father knew about them; probably nothing, but he'd caught Arthur sneaking out the door a few times and had given him knowing, slightly disgusted looks. It was hard to know if he'd remember seeing Arthur in the morning.

"Can't tell me you don't want to ride this dick for the rest of your life," Alfred said when they were closed inside his room, Arthur bouncing on Alfred's lap, his head thrown back and his dick hard in Alfred's hand. Arthur laughed and then groaned, slamming himself down harder, their skin slapping together.

"Yeah," he said, letting his head roll back onto Alfred's shoulder. "Every night. Every day. _God_, fuck, feels so good."

"That's fucking right," Alfred said, sounding proud of himself, and also weirdly tender. His hand moved on Arthur's cock in a maddeningly slow pace, like he was trying to draw the moment out. Arthur rode him harder in response, grunting with every downward thrust, until Alfred got fed up with not being in control and pushed him forward, onto his hands and knees.

"Beg for it," Alfred said, pulling out almost all the way, holding Arthur open with just the fat head of his cock. Arthur shouted in frustration, thinking of their interrogation games, Alfred's talent for torture.

"Need it, please," he said softly, humiliated, his head dropping between his shoulders and his ass clenching around Alfred's cock, trying to pull him back in. "Please, Alfred, please."

"That's a good boy," Alfred said, rubbing the small of Arthur's back and pushing in slow, too slow. Arthur tried to ram himself backward and Alfred grabbed his hips, holding him still. "Steady, little cockslut," he said, and Arthur's hands fisted Alfred's sheets. His whole body throbbed with hot embarrassment, and it felt painfully good, being at Alfred's mercy, like always. He put his forehead against the mattress and went still, submitting.

"What are you gonna do when you're off at college, huh?" Alfred asked, dragging his cock in and out of Arthur slowly, teasing him. "How are you gonna get through the days without me around to fuck your greedy ass? Gonna let some other college boys fuck you?"

"No," Arthur said, the word sticking hard in his chest, because it was true and he knew it. "Nobody – no one but you, you –"

"Say it. I own this ass, don't I?"

"Yes, you do, please, please –"

"You want me to fuck this ass like I own it?"

"_Yeah_, oh, please – _ahh!_"

Alfred gave him what he wanted then, fucking Arthur so hard that he slid forward on the bed, biting the blankets to muffle his screams. He didn't even need to jerk his cock to get off; Alfred found his prostate and slammed against it with the head of his cock until Arthur was reduced to a gibbering mess of nerves, flopping down onto the bed when he came. Alfred wasn't far behind, dumping himself down onto Arthur's back and burying his long, low groan against Arthur's shoulder as he pumped him full.

They stayed like that for a while afterward, something they normally didn't do. Alfred didn't even pull out, just licked at the back of Arthur's neck like Arthur was his sated mate. Arthur laughed at the thought and Alfred sighed against his skin.

"When we were kids you were always the best part of my day," Alfred said. "And I couldn't figure out why."

"Figured it out yet?" Arthur asked, half-asleep against the mattress.

"Not really," Alfred said, and Arthur laughed. He knew that Alfred got something different from this than what he gave to Arthur. For Alfred, Arthur represented hope, some sort of better life that lived on the other side of a tall fence. To Arthur, Alfred was someone he wanted to rescue, tied to the train tracks of a life that was leading nowhere. He had nightmares all the time that he couldn't get there in time to cut Alfred loose.

*

Arthur's senior year was a train wreck. Alfred dropped out of school three days into the first semester, still technically a sophomore. They had a fight about it, and Alfred told Arthur to stay out of his fucking business. Arthur called Alfred a loser to his face for the first time ever and actually thought Alfred was going to hit him for a minute, actually kind of wanted him to. Alfred just smirked like he didn't give a shit and walked off, lighting a cigarette. Arthur went back to his house and cried into his pillow until his mother came in and rubbed his back, her voice wavering as she begged him to tell her what was wrong.

"I guess I'm gay or whatever," Arthur said, speaking into his pillow, sobbing again once the words were out. His mother just kept stroking his back, and he was afraid to turn and look her in the eyes.

"I know, baby," she said softly. "Its okay."

"You – what?" Arthur spun around, giving her a betrayed look. "How could you –"

"You're too cute not to have a girlfriend, Arthur." His mother smiled and brushed his tears from his cheeks, making him feel five years old. "Also, Molly saw you at Pizza Planet with your boyfriend."

"He's not – I," Arthur stuttered, trying to remember anything incriminating Alfred might have done to him in public. Maybe it was just obvious when they were together, from the way they looked at each other. His face pinched up with tears again but he fought them away. "He broke up with me," Arthur said, wishing he wasn't having this conversation with his mother, but there was no one else he could talk to about this. "I think."

"Oh?" His mother looked like she was trying to decide whether or not to be worried. "Well – you'll be graduating soon, going off to college. Maybe it's for the best? Who is this guy, anyway? Molly said he looked kind of – um. Tough?"

"He's – he's nobody. A high school drop-out, as of today. He's got no real family, no goals, and no scruples. He's a thief, and a pothead." The tears welled up in Arthur's chest again, but he stuffed them back down. "And I love him. Which is stupid, I know."

"Whoa," Arthur's mother said, sitting back for a moment, her eyebrows raised. She took a deep breath and slid her arm around Arthur's shoulders. "Arthur – oh. I hate that you've been going through all this alone. You know – you know I met your father when I was in high school, right?"

"Yeah, I know." Arthur sniffled, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand.

"It's – not a great time to fall in love, generally. You're still figuring things out, and it's all very exciting, but that can cloud your better judgment. I'll always be glad that I loved your father, because he gave me you and Molly, but I wish I had been smarter about whom I gave my heart to. Just – be careful, baby. It's good that you recognize this guy's – shortcomings. You're smarter than I was at your age. It's probably a good thing that you broke up, even though it hurts. Now you can focus on your college applications and your AP classes, your basketball, all the other things that are important to you. Right?"

"Right," Arthur said miserably. He put on a happy face for his mother so that she'd leave him alone, and then put his face in his pillow again, wincing at the memory of what he'd said to Alfred. He tried to convince himself that his mother was right, but he couldn't imagine his life without Alfred, those afternoons in his bed, panting and sweating and collapsing together, the way that Alfred held him loosely while he dozed. But if it was all about sex, it was better to end it now. Still, Arthur felt like there was a throbbing hole in his chest, and he wanted to grovel at Alfred's feet and beg forgiveness, but he was afraid Alfred would just sneer and dismiss him.

It wasn't hard to avoid Alfred now that he wasn't at school, and Arthur did everything he could to stop thinking about him, but he couldn't. He missed Alfred so much that it was like a weight he was always dragging behind him, making him feels slow and hopeless. He stopped calling his other friends and started spending all his time at home, alternating between studying and staring listlessly at porn on his computer. After basketball practice, instead of heading to Alfred's house, he stretched out in his bed and listened to his mp3 player until dinner, every song reminding him of Alfred. Sometimes he rolled toward the wall and jerked off, wanting the hand on his cock to be Alfred's, unable to imitate his rough palm and slow, certain strokes. He'd fuck himself on his fingers, frustrated enough to cry when they felt nowhere near as good as Alfred's cock, missing the feeling of Alfred's hands gripping his hips as he worked his way in.

He'd expected to miss the sex, but he also missed sneaking looks at Alfred when they passed in the halls at school, Arthur's chest tightening with the sweet pressure of their secret. He missed watching stolen movies on Alfred's laptop, lying on his side and letting Alfred feed him Twizzlers. He missed the way Alfred looked at him, like he thought Arthur was kind of hilarious but also amazing, worth staring at. He began to feel more and hollowed, longing for the sardonic laughter and irreverent comments, the smell of Alfred's sheets and that rough little attempt at a beard rubbing against his balls when Alfred lapped at the base of his cock.

One night, a few weeks before winter break, Arthur went to a party thrown by one of his basketball teammates. The guy's parents were out of town, and there was a keg, a liquor cabinet, and plenty of pot. Arthur didn't want to embarrass himself by trying to smoke, so he opted for vodka, because it mixed easily with Sprite. A couple of hours later he was drunk and alone on the back porch, snow coming down in pathetic little flakes as he dialed Alfred's cell phone number.

"Yeah?" Alfred said when he answered, and Arthur was taken off guard. He'd been composing a long voicemail message in his head, hadn't expected Alfred to still be sober enough to pay attention to his phone.

"Hey," Arthur said, slurring. "S'me."

"No shit. Saw your name on the caller ID."

Knowing this, Arthur was even more surprised that Alfred had answered. Maybe Alfred wasn't as mad at him as he'd thought. He sat there in silence, his mouth hanging open as he tried to decide what to say.

"I got my college acceptance letters," Arthur said, hoping he wouldn't sound like he was bragging. "I think I'm going to go to UCLA. They have a pretty good geology department. Also, palm trees."

"Palm trees." Alfred snorted. "Good for you. And I should give a shit why?"

"I didn't say you should," Arthur said, that rage that made him call Alfred a loser building in his chest. He was so tired of being dismissed as if he'd meant nothing to Alfred all along. "Just – thought you might like to know. Since we fucked for three years."

"Barely one year. You held out on me until last year, remember? And it was just fucking. You were a sweet piece of ass. Thanks for the memories. Have fun with your palm trees."

"Alfred, wait," Arthur said, afraid his voice would break, but it just wavered. "I – I'm sorry, I just wanted you to stay in school with me, and then you acted like you didn't care what I thought –"

"Yeah, probably 'cause I don't. You done now?"

Arthur hung up, shaking with anger. The yard was dark and quiet as he listened to the party raging on inside the house, people with normal high school experiences having a good time. He wanted to be like them, wanted to go back in time and never fall under Alfred's spell, wished he'd never slipped through the plank in the fence and into Alfred's fucked-up world. He thought about nine-year-old Alfred and what would have become of him if Arthur hadn't let him into his room that night then pushed the thoughts away. Alfred didn't need him, just wanted to get off, whether it was on bullying him or fucking him. All he'd wanted was to be on top, and Arthur had let him win every time.

The rest of his senior year passed quickly, and he did all he could to forget Alfred. This became more difficult when Arthur took the recycling out to the curb one morning, delirious and wearing nothing but his pajama pants, and found Alfred there, loading their garbage into a truck that he was apparently driving. They stared at each other for a moment, and Alfred grinned.

"I figured it was fitting," Alfred said, holding his arms out. "Probably exactly what you thought I'd end up doing."

"What –" Arthur said softly, still mostly asleep, still holding onto the recycling. Alfred looked different, his hair longer and his beard thicker. Even his chest seemed broader, and he was hiding behind tinted goggles, a fat set of headphones looped around his neck.

"I'll take that, sir," Alfred said, giving Arthur a smart ass smirk as he ripped the recycling bin out of his hands. "Tips are not expected, but they are appreciated."

He tossed the contents of the bin into his truck, and then chucked the empty bin onto the grass. Arthur was still dumbstruck, staring. Something about the fact that Alfred was wearing short sleeves with heavy gloves made him flush.

"Why are you all comatose?" Alfred asked, waving his hand in front of Arthur's face. "You're really that surprised to see me here?"

Alfred didn't seem embarrassed, and he actually seemed happier than Arthur had seen him in years, without the frustrations of school and the teachers who'd given up on him, and without Arthur around, rubbing his accomplishments in Alfred's face. Arthur had thought he was over Alfred, but he suddenly felt desperate for him, even with the reek of the idling garbage truck close by.

"I'm glad you're okay," Arthur said. "I haven't heard from you."

"Hard to believe I could live without you, is that it?" Alfred said, still joking, but he pushed the goggles up onto his head and showed Arthur's his eyes. They were as dark and coolly disinterested as ever, but there was calmness in them now, and Arthur couldn't believe how much older Alfred seemed.

"School has sucked without you," Arthur said, though what he really meant was that _life_ had sucked, since he'd hardly ever seen Alfred at school even back when he was attending.

"Yeah, well," Alfred said. He seemed at a loss for a moment, as if he hadn't expected Arthur to offer him anything resembling kindness. Arthur was only half-awake, and too stunned by the sight of Alfred to have his defenses up.

"I gotta go," Alfred said, gesturing to the truck. "Trash ain't gonna collect itself."

"Alfred."

"What?"

Arthur just stood there with his mouth open. He watched Alfred's eyes rake down his body for the third time, and remembered that he was half-naked. He flushed, folding his arms over his chest, and Alfred smirked.

"You look all grown up," Alfred said. Arthur was surprised; he hadn't noticed any difference in himself in the past six months.

"So do you," Arthur said. Alfred snorted and headed for the driver's side door of the truck.

"I always have been, compared to you," Alfred said.

Arthur wanted to shoot back with something like, _Yeah, well, you were still a virgin until I came along_, but he didn't bother. Alfred climbed into the truck, and Arthur watched him pull down to the next driveway; load the trash and then the recycling. It was weirdly mesmerizing. Alfred looked back and laughed when he saw Arthur staring.

"Was I the most exciting thing that ever happened to you or what?" Alfred said in a shout, shaking his head.

Arthur flicked him off and walked into the house, his face on fire. He hurried into his bedroom, ignoring his mother's announcement that breakfast was ready, locked the door and shoved his pajama pants down, kneeling onto the bed. He bent down with his head to the mattress and pinched his eyes shut, gritting his teeth and jerking his cock as he gave himself over to a fantasy about Alfred fucking him while wearing those dirty gloves that rough leather closed around Arthur's hips. He came hard and fast, groaning into the mattress and slumping over, panting. He hated being a slave to this, but he couldn't deny it. He wanted Alfred so badly that his bones were burning. He punched his pillow in frustration, listening to the sound of the garbage truck through his open bedroom window.

*

The rest of the school year felt inconsequential, with everyone's college plans already set. Arthur ended up going to his senior prom with Katrina, though they went as friends, and Arthur got the feeling that she'd somehow figured out that he was gay. He started to suspect that more people had noticed him sneaking around with Alfred than he'd realized, girls no longer pursuing him. Prom was fun, but the whole exercise felt kind of hollow. Arthur got drunk at the party afterward, but not drunk enough to call Alfred, though he did sit in Pete Niehauser's living room reading through old text messages from Alfred while the others watched _Back to the Future_ on TV, drunkenly proclaiming it to be the best movie ever. To Arthur, they all seemed hopelessly immature, nice enough but not interesting. He walked home alone and stayed up until sunrise, staring at his bedroom window and listening to his mp3 player, favoring old songs that Alfred had introduced him to.

All summer, every Wednesday morning, Arthur woke to the sound of the garbage truck outside, snuck to the window and peeked out at Alfred. He seemed to get bigger and stronger every week, hoisting the garbage bins onto the truck more easily as the months passed. He was usually listening to music, singing to himself obliviously, as if he didn't even remember that this house was Arthur's. Arthur kept waiting to catch Alfred rooting through his garbage in some desperate attempt to catch a glimpse of Arthur's life, but Alfred just threw the trash into the truck without hesitating.

The time came to pack for college, and Arthur was reluctant, everything about his life at home feeling unfinished. His mother told him to sort through his old toys, and just the thought of throwing them away gave him an uneasy pang, though he knew there was no point in saving them; even Molly had outgrown that stuff. When he opened his toy chest to sort out what to trash and what to put up in the attic, he felt a crushing pressure between his ribs. It was a million years ago, those days when he would spend all morning in his own little world, trotting his toys around the backyard, his eyes sneaking to the loose plank that led to Alfred's yard and his heart pounding as he tried to talk himself out of going over there. He picked up his cowboy Woody doll and couldn't even bring himself to relegate it to the attic; it was too depressing. Arthur's father gave him Woody just a few months before leaving, and when his father was gone Woody became something sacred, a piece of his father that he could still cling to. Later Woody became something else, a sort of friend who would never let him down the way his father had.

Arthur sighed and put Woody in the box of things he would bring to college, not sure what his roommate would make of a cowboy doll sitting on his bookshelf but unable to let his old friend go. He thought of the My Little Pony t-shirt he'd tried to wear to middle school and tossed the rest of his old toys into a garbage bag bound for the attic.

It shouldn't have stung so badly to learn that his mother had taken the bag out to the garbage by mistake, but it did, maybe for the thought that it was Alfred who had yet again tossed all of Arthur's childhood memories into the trash. Arthur went up to his room and slammed the door, determined to be angry at his mother and not at himself. Again he'd been reckless, and again something that had once meant a lot to him had been trashed. So what if those things had no place in the life he was headed for? He moaned and sat down on his bed with his head in hands, resisting the urge to pull Woody from the box on his desk and take comfort in the sight of old toy. He was too old for this sort of shit.

On the day before he left for college, Arthur finished packing up his room. He was planning on hitting the road early the next morning for the twelve hour drive to California, wanting to get the whole thing over with in one day. He found a box full of the toys his mother thought she threw away, and while his mother was relieved, her guilt about accidentally trashing them alleviated, Arthur felt guilty at the thought that his nostalgia was preventing him from donating the toys to kids who would actually enjoy them. The idea of his old toys collecting dust up in the attic was more depressing than the slightly panicked feeling he got at the thought of giving them away, so he drove them to the address his mother gave him, which ended up being the home of one of the women who ran the daycare. Arthur had thought he'd be donating to the daycare itself, but after showing the woman's young daughter all of his old toys he was pretty sure she'd be keeping them herself, which was okay by him. She was adorable, and smart, and he knew his old toys would be in good hands. Even Woody, who somehow got mixed in with the others. Arthur didn't want to give him up, but the little girl seemed to know him somehow, and he didn't have the heart to take Woody back from her, knowing that he would only collect dust on his bookshelf at college.

Still, driving away was hard, as if he was leaving his whole childhood behind, severing that part of himself for good. He flipped on the radio and tried to find a song that wasn't sad, not wanting to return to his empty childhood bedroom. When he ended up parked outside of Alfred's house, it felt like he'd been drawn there against his will, but that was always how it was with Alfred.

He got out of the car, prepared to be rejected, still feeling a little tender after parting with his old toys. The day was bright and hot, and it felt a little bit like the end of the world. Arthur knew that Alfred was the last person he should expect comfort from, but he also seemed like the only person who could give it.

He knocked on the front door; no longer welcome enough to just walk inside. There was no answer, and the whole street was deadly quiet. It was after noon, and Arthur wondered if Alfred was still on his garbage route, or if he was out with friends, or up there fucking somebody else. After waiting almost three minutes for an answer at the door, he turned away, feeling drained and small, the prospect of driving to California alone in the morning making him queasy.

"You still here?" someone called as Arthur was heading down the cracked driveway, and he looked up, squinting in the sunlight until his eyes focused on the window over the garage. Alfred was holding his blinds open, looking down at Arthur from his dark bedroom.

"Thought you would have shipped off for college already," Alfred said.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," Arthur said. His whole chest went tense with hope. He wanted to be up in that room, in the cool dark, Alfred on top of him, kissing him like it meant something while the little floor fan blew against them. He waited, his hands curling into fists as Alfred watched him, his mouth quirking like he was still thinking about how he should handle this development.

"Leaving tomorrow," Alfred said. "So you came for your farewell fuck?"

"I wanted to see you," Arthur said. He had nothing left to lose, and he'd been stripped bare by the simple act of giving his old toys away. Alfred was something he could still get back.

"Well, come up," Alfred said, sighing as if this was putting him out. "Door's open."

Arthur walked inside, his vision tunneling as he made his way up the familiar stairs. There was never a single light on inside Alfred's house, and the whole place smelled like old pizza and cigarettes. Arthur was afraid that Alfred would smell like garbage, but when Alfred opened the door to his room and grinned at him, he smelled more like Fruit Loops and soap, his black hair damp like he'd just come from the shower. He looked sleepy, and he was zipping a pair of jeans over his boxers as Arthur stood there looking at him, begging with his eyes.

"Shit, Arthur," Alfred said, sounding a little bit impressed. "C'mere."

Arthur whined a little, mostly at the realization that it could have been this easy all along. He walked forward and put his arms around Alfred's shoulders, pressing his face to Alfred's neck. Alfred's arms wound around his back, one of Alfred's thumbs stroking over his t-shirt, and Arthur sighed hard, his last, paltry defenses dropping away as he went soft in Alfred's arms.

"It's been a weird day," Arthur said, pulling Alfred closer, pressing their chests together.

"Been a weird year," Alfred said. He reached up to rub the back of Arthur's neck. "Know what I mean?"

"Yeah." Arthur pulled back, keeping his face close to Alfred's, wanting to taste his Fruit Loop breath. Alfred grinned, still trying to be cool, but Arthur could feel his hands shaking.

"I shouldn't have had such a shit fit when you left school," Arthur said. "You seem happier now. I just thought you'd regret it. I know you're going to laugh at me, but I fucking care about what happens to you, alright?"

Alfred studied him for a minute, his face unreadable. Arthur could see the tan lines that Alfred's garbage-collecting goggles had left on his face even in the low light of the room.

"Not gonna laugh at you," Alfred said. He pressed his face to Arthur's, holding his gaze for a few seconds before kissing him. Arthur let out a breath he felt like he'd been holding all year, pushing it between Alfred's lips as they opened for each other, tongues sliding together.

"God, fuck," Alfred said, moaning and reaching down to squeeze Arthur's ass. "You taste better than I remembered."

Arthur sort of whimpered, not caring how pathetic he seemed; Alfred always forgave him for that, even if he teased him for it, too. He surged up onto his toes as Alfred kissed him harder, growling with satisfaction, and Arthur laughed against Alfred's lips when Alfred lifted him off the floor, pulling Arthur's legs around his waist.

"Yeah," Arthur said hoarsely as Alfred carried him to the bed.

"Yeah?" Alfred said, pulling back to smirk at him. "Yeah, that what you came for?"

"Need it, please," Arthur said, already tearing off his clothes as Alfred dumped him onto the bed.

"Fuck, I know you do," Alfred said, looking kind of dangerous as he undressed. Arthur didn't care; he wanted it all, as hard as Alfred would give it.

Alfred wasted no time getting Arthur's cock in his mouth, and Arthur groaned and punched the headboard, his legs opening wider as Alfred's beard rubbed over his balls. It had been too long, and Arthur was going to come so hard, his hands closing into Alfred's hair. Alfred moved up to drag his teeth over Arthur's nipples and Arthur arched, wanting to press every part of himself into Alfred's hot mouth. He grabbed Alfred's head and yanked him up for a bruising kiss, both of them breathless and sloppy, hungry for each other.

Arthur pushed Alfred onto his back, knowing that Alfred was letting him do it only because he was anticipating his blow job. Alfred had gotten much stronger since the last time Arthur had been pinned by him, and Arthur's cock was leaking just from the sight of Alfred's body, his new muscles tightening as he groaned and shoved himself deeper into Arthur's mouth.

"Yeah, shit, suck that dick," Alfred said, taking a handful of Arthur's hair. "Fucking – _ahh_, Arthur, God. Missed the way you drooled for it, little cocksucker."

Arthur moaned around Alfred's cock, trying to take him deeper. It had been awhile, but he hadn't forgotten this feeling, the squeeze of Alfred's fat cockhead at the back of his throat as the width of the shaft stretched his lips. He liked the impatient hand in his hair, the filthy words, the way Alfred bucked his hips greedily, and he was panting for more when Alfred pushed him off.

"Gotta fuck you now," Alfred said, fumbling for lube, looking a little crazed. Arthur nodded and flopped onto his back, holding his legs open, his swollen lips parted as he watched Alfred slick himself.

"You need to be opened?" Alfred asked, crawling forward.

"Nuh-uh. Just do it. Hard, please, I need you so hard."

Alfred just groaned, and Arthur loved seeing him fall apart for this. He was slow going in, watching Arthur go crazy for the feeling of being stretched, his thumbs working his nipples as he arched and cried out. Alfred grabbed both of Arthur's hands and pinned them over his head, leaning down to work on Arthur's nipples with his mouth as he sank in deeper. Arthur was out of his mind with how good it felt, that familiar push, being filled, fucked open by Alfred. Maybe he would never figure out why he needed this, but he did, and he groaned into Alfred's mouth as Alfred covered Arthur's lips with his, kissing Arthur like he was a thing Alfred owned. Arthur wanted it, to belong to Alfred, still his favorite toy.

"Fuck, you're tight for me," Alfred said, breathing the words into Arthur's open mouth. "So fucking tight, Arthur – no one's ever been in you 'cept me, have they?"

"Hell no," Arthur said, staring up at Alfred, panting. "You f-fucking know I'm yours."

"That's right," Alfred said, though if the lost look in his eyes was any indication, this was news to him. He kissed Arthur again, sighing into him and beginning to roll his hips. They were both sweating already, sliding together so well, like no time had passed at all, Alfred's elbows sinking down around Arthur's ears, his mouth so hungry and wet that Arthur felt like he'd drown. He wanted to drown, to disappear inside this feeling, blown apart by how good it was to get fucked again, to have Alfred pounding into him, hovering over him, staring down at Arthur with those dark, possessive eyes, like Arthur was his captive.

"Fucking look at you," Alfred said, holding Arthur's jaw with one hand, his other hand in Arthur's hair, tipping his head back. "Blushing under your fucking freckles. Such a little boy." He licked across Arthur's lips, moaning as if he could hardly stand it, and Arthur came when Alfred reached between them to grab his cock. His fingers were rougher than Arthur remembered, hardened during their year apart, and Arthur's eyes were leaking as his cock went off in Alfred's hand. He reached up and pulled Alfred down to him, hiding his wet face against Alfred's shoulder as Alfred huffed and snapped his hips, driving in deep.

"D'you miss my come s'much as you missed my dick?" Alfred asked, barely getting the words out; Arthur could hear how tight his jaw was, how hard he was trying to make this last, to hold himself back.

"Yeah," Arthur cried. "Please, fucking – fill me up, make me dirty."

"_Unghh_," Alfred groaned out, his hips pistoling crazily now, and Arthur knew he would be sore but he didn't care, just opened his legs wider as Alfred's face pressed to his neck.

"My dirty boy," Alfred said with a weak laugh. His teeth closed over the slope between Arthur's neck and shoulder as his orgasm ripped out of him, and Arthur screamed again. He wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck, his legs around Alfred's back, and listened to Alfred pant as he pumped his load into Arthur, his teeth slowly dislodging from Arthur's skin. Alfred sighed and let Arthur run his fingers through his hair, which hung in sweaty strands around Arthur's face when Alfred lifted his head. Alfred seemed kind of out of it, his eyes still closed, and he rested his cheek against Arthur's.

"Shit," Alfred said, breathing the word out, sounding astonished and so tired.

"Yeah," Arthur said, and he kissed the corner of Alfred's eye. Alfred bent down to lick over the bite mark he'd left on Arthur's shoulder and Arthur let his head drop back, his eyes sliding shut as the broken skin throbbed. It was a good throb, like the burn in his ass, Alfred's cock still pushed inside him.

"Fucking pretty boy," Alfred muttered as he licked his way up Arthur's neck and along his jaw. He sounded kind of irritated, but Arthur still took it as a compliment, smiling lazily until Alfred found his mouth, kissing him with a softness that could only be attributed to exhaustion. They stayed like that for a long time, and in Arthur's mind they were under the picnic table, the purple leaves moving like music in the wind. He wanted this every day, to be reduced to Alfred's sated captive, Alfred's tongue soothing him back to consciousness, his cock going soft in Arthur's opened ass.

"You need a fucking haircut," Arthur said when he finally cracked his eyes open, pushing Alfred's hair behind his ear. Alfred grinned, but it was a pathetic imitation of his usual smugness, his heart not really in it. His eyes locked on Arthur's, and Arthur knew he was thinking about what he'd said before, thinking that this was the last time. He still hadn't pulled out.

"Don't let anybody fuck with you at college," Alfred said, his face growing stern and serious. "Don't let the assholes push you around. And don't wear your fucking My Little Pony shirt."

"Whatever," Arthur said. "It'd probably be cool now, right? Nostalgia, irony, that sort of thing."

"You'll never be cool, man," Alfred said, still huddled around him, smiling more genuinely now. "You'll always be my little dork."

"Then you'd better come with me," Arthur said, his heart pounding. "Keep the cool kids from beating me up on the playground. That sort of thing."

Alfred snorted and rolled off of Arthur. He cast around on the windowsill and cursed when he found that his pack of cigarettes was empty, throwing it across the room. Arthur rolled onto his side and stared at Alfred, who was looking up at the ceiling, pushing his hair off of his forehead. He tucked one arm behind his head, his mouth twitching as if he was fighting the urge to say something.

"I mean it," Arthur said. He propped himself up on an elbow and spread one hand across Alfred's chest, unable to believe how strong he was now, how easily he'd hoisted Arthur off the floor. "Have you got any money saved up? From your job?"

"Some," Alfred said. He scratched at his elbow. "But that's bullshit. I can't fucking move across the country just because we had a good fuck for old time's sake."

"Don't be a dick," Arthur said. He touched Alfred's jaw and turned his face, forcing him to meet his eyes. "Please? Don't you want to get away from your dad?"

"Of course I fucking do. But –"

"But what? I've talked to the guy who's going to be my roommate, he's from Ohio. He said he won't be there until Monday; he's got some baseball tournament or something. That would give you almost three days to find an apartment. You could crash in my room while you looked."

"Jesus," Alfred said, moaning and rubbing his hands over his face. "You're crazy. You think they'd just let me into your dorm with all the other clean cut darlings?"

"We could make you cleaner cut-looking, temporarily," Arthur said, touching Alfred's short beard. "But, believe it or not, there are guys with goatees and long hair on college campuses, too."

Alfred scoffed and looked at the ceiling again, his mouth still twitching. Arthur kissed his closed lips, and then licked against them, coaxing them open.

"Come with me," Arthur said. "Please?" He thought of putting Woody in the box bound for college, and the reason that he did it. "I want to bring something from home, something I love."

Alfred jerked his eyes to Arthur's, looking like he'd been slapped. The shock drained from his face, and Arthur's heart slammed in his chest. He never could conjure a real mental image of driving his car across the country by himself, and now he was picturing Alfred in the passenger seat, the window rolled down, a cigarette wagging between his lips while he ranted about Arthur's music choices.

"Please?" Arthur said again, rubbing his thumb along Alfred's jaw. He didn't want to make the same mistake that his mother had, but he didn't want to live like he had for the past year, and some part of him had always trusted Alfred not to hurt him. It was why he'd submitted to those games as a kid, because he liked being brought to the very edge, his heart pounding, breath stuttering, and then being set free. It was why he always came back for more.

"You really need me that bad, huh?" Alfred said.

"Yeah," Arthur said. He closed his eyes and rested his head against Alfred's chest, the anxiety that had been twisting him into knots for the past year beginning to drain away as Alfred's fingers scratched through his hair. "Need you to turn my t-shirts inside out. Show me how to download free porn. Stuff like that."

Alfred laughed, and Arthur could hear the relief in it. The blinds were still bent a little from where Alfred had held them open when he called down to Arthur, and one thin beam of sunlight was streaming through, streaking across Alfred's chest and Arthur's shoulder.

"Alright, then," Alfred said. He cleared his throat. "If you need me."

"Yeah. I do."

They fell asleep, Alfred tired from his shift and Arthur emotionally drained, glad to wake up to Alfred's warm skin and irritable groans. He rolled Alfred against him, hugging him hard while he slept. In a few hours they would pack up whatever Alfred wanted to take with him: the laptop and the mp3 player, maybe an ashtray or two. Arthur craned his neck, taking a last look at the room where he lost his virginity and had his first real, hard kiss. He thought about walking to the other window and looking out at the picnic table where he used to stare up at Alfred, but he stayed where he was, afraid that if he saw that picnic table now it would seem much too small. In Arthur's memories it was an abandoned warehouse and a sketchy doctor's office, a place big enough to hide in, the first room they ever shared.

**How was it? R &R.**

**I'll give you cookies.**

**And Milk.**

**SOY MILK.**

**:D**


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